


Never Again

by Singerdiva01



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singerdiva01/pseuds/Singerdiva01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She told herself it would never happen again. She told him too. How many times does she have to make this vow for it to stick?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again

She told herself it would never happen again. 

She told him it wouldn’t happen ever again either, no matter what play he tried to run or which tired old words came out of his silver tongued politician’s mouth. 

“Secretary Roslin, stay back for a minute, will you?”

It might have been phrased as a question but everyone in the cabinet meeting knew it was a direct presidential order. Laura could feel their eyes on her as they filed out of the room. Some looks were pitying; others knew just as well what was going to happen and they judged her for it. Harshly.

She hated herself for it. Finally, though, she hated him more. 

He was undoing his belt and toeing off his shoes by the time the door shut them all on the other side. She sat straight backed on the famed couch in the presidential office and tried to balance the venom in her voice with the expected respect for his office. 

“No, Mr. President,” she said evenly, using his title with intention. “We talked about this.”

Adar simply leered at her and untangled his ankles from his pants. 

Laura couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry when she saw that his boxers -- _his frakking boxers_ \-- bore the presidential seal. 

He made his way to the couch and reached out to stroke her hair. She caught his wrist in mid-air. 

“Stop, Richard. We’re not doing this.” 

She pursed her lips at his entitled snort. 

“Seriously, Richard, look at those boxers. Look at us. Who the frak are you anymore? Who the frak are _we_?”

Adar grinned and broke her hold on his wrist to move his hand to the side zipper of her skirt. She made an effort to move away but it was unsure enough to spur him on. 

“I’m the president, Madam Secretary,” he murmured. “And you’re my Laura. Always my Laura.”  
She winced and then squirmed when he divested her of her skirt but couldn’t find it in herself to resist enough to alert security, just outside the door. 

He smelled like Richard, the first man who’d held her after her family died. He touched her, when he wriggled her panties down her thighs, like the old Richard who’d promised this would never morph into a tawdry affair. 

When he knelt down to lick her she almost couldn’t believe it. Richard had never been one for eating pussy. She found herself marveling at the fact that all it took was a threat, harshly delivered with all her clothes on, to get Richard Adar into foreplay. 

The politician in her, the politician he’d made her, knew it was a trick that would only work once. She whimpered the first time his tongue tickled her clit even as she vowed this would be her one reward for all these years and then, then it would never happen again. 

He ate her to what would have been a screaming orgasm had he not pressed a pillow, embroidered with the frakking presidential seal, over her face to muffle her cries. She’d barely recovered by the time he was inside her, pumping awkwardly from his position standing over her on the couch. 

It was mercifully short, both his anatomy and his staying power. His eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth went stupidly slack when he exploded inside her and she had to stifle a giggle at the thought of disseminating _this_ image of the stately president to the masses. 

He finally had to sink to her level on the couch after he’d exhausted his release. Laura took the opportunity to clean herself with her panties, shove them in her weighty briefing book, and replace her skirt. She got up and regarded him with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Goodnight, Mr. President.”

She held her head high as she walked to the door. She’d just put her hand on the handle when he called for her to stop. 

“Old habits die hard, Laura.” He smiled his sated smile and nudged his fallen boxers with his toe. “You’ll be back.”

Laura regarded him for a moment, trying to conjure up a response. When she couldn’t, she was forced to nod and walk out the door. 

As she passed the security guards outside, more pity, more judgment, she sighed a familiar promise and vowed to mean it this time.

_Never again._


End file.
